A Forgotten Nightmare
by TheTLadies
Summary: After thirteen years, countless victims, and even more perps, there is still one man that thinks he is the only one inside Olivia's head. "No hard feelings" doesn't cover half of it.
1. Chapter 1

**Unfortunately our attempts to kidnap SVU without being caught by the 1-6 have proven fruitless thus far, so for now, we do not own this amazing television program. **

The precinct was relatively silent and relatively empty; two unlikely characteristics considering the people and work that usually went on in the 1-6. Located in New York, there was never any down time. It was the city where dreams came true and occasionally nightmares for its many inhabitants.

On this particular night, the elite police squad's grounds sat only two.

One a brunette, whose fingers clicked quickly across the keyboard, scampering about for justice, working and mending the letters into words, words to get them closer to the truth. Pieces to fill the puzzle in the bounds of the law. She was a veteran. You could say she'd been put through the ringer, though that didn't accurately describe the female detective at all. It was much more complex, and one wouldn't know whether to call it an over or understatement. So many factors, so many experiences she'd been through. So many people, so many events. People that she's helped, people that she's hurt. People that have helped her, people that have hurt her. Young, old, male female, it didn't matter. Olivia Benson was blind to all of the characterstics besides good and evil. The only black and white she was worried about was the validity of facts. All of these people affected her differently, definitely, and deeply.

But all of the events served the same purpose: to shape her. To shape her into the person she was today, and the person she was meant to be.

And then there was the blonde. A little more unsure, typing slowly, cautiously, not as confident as one beside her. So she watched. She learned. And she soaked. She connected, she talked, and she kept secrets. Secrets of pettiness and secrets that carried weight, the hidden words knew no bounds, only that they should retreat into the back of her mind if she convinced them they must. She was still new to dealing with it all, and so she simply watched. She had passion, but she lacked the experience. She would get it, though, she was convinced that one day she would. She was determined that one day it would happen.

Though both women were unique and different, they were there for the same reason. The universe had cursed them both with certain things, though their lives were very different. There was an invisible string binding them together, and had them depending on each other in ways that words couldn't describe. Their paths morphed and permeated with permanent glue, a cementation of the figurative road they both walked.

They were friends; though the word didn't begin describe it. There were no words. They needed each other for different reasons, though in the end they were all the same.

They had been hurt, and they had the same coping mechanism. The same vow to help others that had been hurt like they had. They needed it to survive. Justice was like air.

And so this night the two worked around the clock, pausing slightly only to sip their teas, discuss or question details, and ask polite niceties to dull the ache of the matter and subject at hand. Without the small talk, they'd go crazy. Every single one of them.

And so it was no surprise that they welcomed the past-due interruption when there was a knock at the door somewhere around the 2:30 mark.

Olivia Benson and Amanda Rollins did not live in a horror movie, they did however reside in New York, a species and place just as rare as the horror film type.

In the place they worked and the things they did, a knock in the wee hours of the morning were not unheard of. In fact, they weren't even all that uncommon. Between victims luckily finding a safe place to go, to people far beyond the realms of your average drunken stupor who just happened to stumble in, there had been many occurrences of late troopers about the building.

That wasn't to say that it was expected. In fact, Rollins jumped slightly at the sudden sound of a knock, and Benson blinked at the sudden sound of the knuckles on the old, thick wood.

"I'll get it," Olivia said, uneventfully raking a hand through her hair in the multipurpose to clean herself up and shake the stress out from the grueling and taxing occasion of the all-nighter.

Rollins nodded, rubbing her eyes before getting back to her work, not wanting to pry on the person at the door. She realized this was silly, and that she wasn't intruding at Olivia's house or into her personal life. However, she was still relatively new. It didn't feel like her turf or place yet. And so she kept the action of searching, but told herself to calm down. This place was just as much hers now as it was Olivia's or anyone else's. She was just a much a part of the team as anyone else, male or female. She wouldn't be overpowered at the workplace. Not again. Those days were over.

"Thank you," Amanda heard the muffled voice of her co-worker as she stepped back into the room, feet heavier on the ground, her footsteps lazier from fatigue.

"Roses?" Amanda questioned, turning away from her work to admire and raise an eyebrow at the dozen or so flowers in her hand.

Olivia shrugged and wore an expression mixed with suspicion and amusement along with the simple fact of questioning. "I don't know. He said they were from an 'anonymous source.'"

"Boyfriend trying to be sweet and mysterious?" Rollins inquired, attempting to muster up a source of conversation.

"I don't see how considering I'm not dating anyone," Olivia retorted a little too harshly than the situation called for, immediately cursing herself for letting her emotions play her. She was trying very hard not to let the bitterness show of her latest failed relationship. _It could never work out,_ she reminded herself,_ office relationships never did._ God knows she'd learned that lesson more than her fair share of times over the years.

However, she reminded herself to remain nonchalant, poker face in tact and not to let the memory of the fling show. They weren't out of the woods yet. If anyone found out about their connection, even if it was over, both their jobs would be in jeopardy. As much as it hurt, keeping it bottled up was absolutely necessary to maintain the one good thing she still had in her life. Without her career she was nothing.

Rollins felt a redness creep into her face. _Nice going Amanda, now you've pissed her off._ "Sorry," she mumbled with embarrassment at her foolishness. Why the hell would she ask her coworker a question better suited for a six grader's sleepover? Why on earth would she think Olivia would want to sit around with her and speak of fairytales and romance? She cleared her throat to speak again, reminding herself not to sound like an idiot this time. "Does it have a card with it?"

Olivia let the topic drop for now, thankful that her relationships were off the feature for the time being. "Um, it says 'no hard feelings.'" Olivia wrinkled her nose. What was that supposed to mean? She scanned her mind for old flames that could be back in town. God knows those were plentiful. Any chance these were delivered to the wrong address? Any chance they were from David? She mentally slapped herself. She'd just finished convincing Rollins nothing happened there.

"That's sort of a strange message to go along with roses," Rollins said, furrowing her eyebrow.

"Yeah," Olivia said, shaking her head and setting the floral arrangement on the edge of her desk. "It doesn't really matter," she shrugged, though she was still curious.

"No, you're right. We should get back to work," Rollins replied, still playing around with the message in her mind.

Olivia nodded in agreement. "Oh, I'm out of tea. I'm going to get some more. You want anything?" She asked.

"More tea would be great," Rollins smiled, handing her her almost empty glass.

Olivia took that glass and walked back to the small drink preparation area, while Rollins zeroed in on the screen, focusing on the tick of the mouse, the words on the computer and the smell of the hot tea, trying to forget about the odd delivery.

Losing focus, she sniffed the air. "Olivia?" She called back. "Did you burn the tea or something?"

"No, I did not burn the tea," she said insulted. "It's really not complicated, you see. You simply rip open the bag, pour its contents into the-"

She was cut off by a large popping, a magnificent boom, and all of the sudden the area felt very small. The walls felt very large and thick, and everything but themselves felt very far away.

The room got hot and piping, poker red for a second before it settled into a mixture of brilliant yellow and a flaming orange. This bright color now the only color among the ashen and charcoal smoke filling the area.

"Amanda!" Olivia coughed. "Amanda, are you all right? Say something, please!" She demanded, panicking, wanting badly to run over to the source, barely shoving back her impulse enough for the rational part of her mind to take over, realizing that this would only make the situation worse in the long run. "Dammit, Rollins, talk to me!" she exclaimed, before making a run over to the emergency, at this point not really caring what happened to her, letting the instinctive side have its authority. She was now only focused on one thing. She had only one mission.

Thankfully, there was a reply before this suicide mission could occur. "Yeah, I'm good, I'm here," Rollins wheezed, raising a hand in proof, her eyes tearing, her skin scorching, and her head suffocating because of smog and the attempted processing of what had just taken place.

Olivia out a slight breath of relief as the fire died down, by some miracle not catching on anything large, the flames mostly gone. Amanda, with her shaking and throbbing hand, grabbed a water bottle from inside her purse, which she kept under her desk, and emptied its contents onto the now wilted and destroyed bouquet. Luckily, this was enough to make the fire go out completely.

They both stood there, their eyes darting back and forth from the source of the disaster and each other. They panted, their breaths heavy and exhausted, their minds racing.

Amanda made the first move to speak. "What the hell was that?" She asked, her voice quivering out of pure shock and the quickness of the event.

Olivia shook her head. "It looks like we've been set up."

"With flowers?" she voice shook.

"I assume it was a little more than flowers. Unless you know of a flower that naturally explodes," she said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Amanda rolled her eyes, but successfully cracked a smile. "And what are the chances of that?"

"I'd say extraordinarily slim."

Amanda nodded. "Not too high?"

"Not too high," Olivia clarified. "Not too high at all. All right, we'd better report this. I'll call an ambulance and request a bus," Olivia said, reaching for the phone.

"A bus? For what?" Rollins questioned.

Olivia looked away from the phone and gave her an odd look. "For you," she said in an obvious manner.

"Oh, no, I'm fine, really," Rollins brushed it off.

"Sorry, but it's precautionary," Olivia excused, holding the phone to her ear.

"Honestly, I'm fine, I don't need-"

"You're getting checked out," Olivia said with a tone, and a look, that left absolutely no room for discussion.

Of course, that wasn't about to stop Amanda from arguing.

"It's really not necessary."

"Rollins," Olivia exasperated, covering the phone, "you're going to the damn hospital. Period. Look, I get it, I do, I get it probably more than anyone. But do you know how many times I've had to go to the hospital when I said I was fine?"

"Every time?" Amanda guessed.

"Yes," Olivia said bitterly. "And I refuse to suffer alone," she said, holding the phone to her ear. "Yes, I'm calling to report a bombing," she started rattling on the phone.

SVU

"Doctor, I promise, this really isn't needed," Olivia argued, irritated, squirming reluctantly in the back of the ambulance.

"Sorry, ma'am, but it's a precautionary measure," the paramedic said, causing Rollins to give a smug and satisfied look. She too refused to suffer alone on this particular occasion, which luckily Olivia didn't catch considering she was too concerned with retorting.

"Fine," Olivia sighed, sitting back down, finishing the quick exam.

"All finished with you," the paramedic finally said to Olivia after a few minutes of testing and reassuring. "This one wasn't so lucky," he explained to the elder of the two, turning to face Rollins as if her appearance were an explanation. "She's going to be fine," he said quickly, attempting to restore confidence as fast as possible.

"Obviously," Amanda mentioned under her breath.

"However, she does have some burns and smoke damage, so we want to take her to the hospital to run some more accurate and extensive tests just to make sure, okay?"

"No," Amanda replied under her breath again.

"Of course," Olivia answered out loud. "I'll ride with her there."

"Excellent, ma'am," the paramedic replied with a smile.

The truck got to moving as Amanda turned from where she was very reluctantly lying on the gurney, though she couldn't understand why considering nothing was broken. "So, what are you thinking?" She asked Olivia. "I know you must have some theories."

"Nothing too crazy. I'm not Munch after all; I'll leave that to him. But I am thinking that it could've been a victim whose perp was never sentenced or never found, or possibly someone related to a victim."

"But why would a victim retaliate like this against the police?" Rollins questioned.

"Sometimes people don't think clearly when something tragic happens. Either they blame themselves or they blame others besides the real perp. They may try to suppress the memory or rationalize something, maybe their subconscious blaming people in ways that aren't really there, connecting things that don't' really make sense. And I'm not saying that's even what happened; I mean maybe this was random. Maybe it was a perpetrator's child trying to understand their parent's mistake, what they had done."

"So that narrows it down to…everyone?"

"Basically," Olivia said, defeated for now. "But we'll get them, we'll figure it out," Olivia bit her nail and stared into space.

"What?"

"Hm?" She snapped out of her worried thought. "Oh, nothing. I just should have known something wasn't right, should've seen something coming."

"Olivia, you couldn't have known," Amanda shook her head.

"You're right, you're right," Olivia said. "But I still should have listened to my gut telling me something was off; I mean a flower delivery at three? Come on. That's a hell of a coincidence."

"It's late. Neither of us are thinking very clearly then or now," Amanda gently said, wanting to stop the blame.

"True," Olivia accredited. She let out a small snort at remembering something. "I remember I was working late with an ADA, Casey Novak, actually. She was attacked in her office late one night. I was out to get coffee, and in the fifteen or so minutes I was gone she was attacked. I came back, and she was just," she shook her head, "out."

"Sounds awful."

"It was. I felt so bad at not being there, that I couldn't stop it before it happened to one of my best friends. I promised I wouldn't let that happen again," she reminisced.

Rollins nodded, not knowing the appropriate reaction in the midst of the stubborn woman's guilt.

"Anyway, the point of that story is that there was a flowery delivery in that attack too. Well, the perp was actually the phony delivery guy. He beat her up real bad. She's okay now, but I find it kind of ironic."

"Sometimes, men can really suck," Rollins commented.

"So can flowers."

"Touché."

"I should call the Captain," Olivia said, whipping out her cell phone and sliding the touch screen to get to the call button. "He'll have my ass if he finds out about this before I tell him," she explained.

She paused, her heart stopping for a second as a message lit up the screen.

'1 missed call from Elliot Stabler,' it mocked her.

She jabbed the red button and shook it off, calling the Captain.

And no one else.

**Hello readers! Allow us to briefly introduce ourselves. Yes folks, **_**us! **_**(And no, I am not a schizophrenic author with multiple personalities. But good guess!) You see, this story has two writers. (Double the legitness, naturally.) Co-writers, if you will. We already have accounts on this site (So we're basically already celebrities here. {Just kidding, we're not that conceited.}), but decided to create a joint account so we could each get reviews, alerts, PM's…you get the point. Our identity's are: TheTBone and LadyRiss (thus getting TheTLadies. Clever, right? Pure brilliance, in my ever so humble opinion.), and we are both working very hard to make this story completely awesome for all of you. And since this is in the wee early stages, some feedback would completely make our worlds go round! Thanks for reading this and giving it a chance, and I hope we can hold your interest and make this story be rocking your socks! Thank you all!**

**~TheTLadies**

***Chapter written by: TheTBone (The author's note was written by me too. Could you tell by the ADDness of it? I mean I put parentheses within parentheses for God's sake…which is like having a note within a note within a note…whoa. I'm thinking maybe a visit to George Huang would be beneficial…)**

***Edited by: LadyRiss and TangoSVU**

***Story idea from the genius brain of LadyRiss**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: It's LadyRiss here! I hope you are all enjoying the story and I swear, if you are iffy just wait until Chapter three; it's suspenseful and keeps your blood pumping. Come back for Chapter four and you'll be in for some great emotional stuff. Just saying. ;) Happy Readings!

Disclaimer: We own nothing.

...

The next day the station house was flooding with the bomb squad and the cleaning staff. Luckily, there was minimal damage to the precinct, but minimal damage still meant damage; at least that's how Captain Cragen saw it. Cragen didn't need this many people in his station, and he certainly didn't need the press that had accumulated outside the 1-6 either. Cragen looked at the mess around him and felt his blood pressure rise. He'd been at the station since he got the call that a bomb went off in his department. That was five hours ago.

"How much longer?" he barked to the closest person, which actually looked like some from CSU.

"Not much longer, we're just gathering the rest of the flowers," a kid who looked like he could be Cragen's grandson replied politely.

The kid's respect just set Cragen more on edge.

"Just hurry up, would you?" Cragen turned around and headed for his office before the tech could respond. He sat at his desk and couldn't help but be angry. The squad was already overworked. Too many perps, not enough detectives, and now this? This bomb was going to set the entire squad back by at least six hours, not to mention his detectives had been jeopardized.

Who had sent that bomb to Olivia?

"Capt," Munch called as he rapped on Cragen's door, "What happened here?"

Cragen sighed and motioned for Munch to come in. "Just sit. Fin, Rollins, Amaro, and Benson should be in soon; we'll talk then."

Munch sighed, but sat down nonetheless. Just as the captain had predicted, the other detectives came filing in not long after. "What happened?" Amaro asked, gesturing to the team of people outside.

"I got a little surprise last night," Olivia said while crossing her arms.

"What?" Amaro asked.

"A bouquet of flowers came and," Olivia paused, trying to grasp the unbelievable reality of the situation that had occurred, "they blew up."

"Did the flowers come with a message?" Fin inquired.

"'No hard feelings,'" Olivia recited.

"That must have been one hell of an ex you pissed off," Munch said lightly. Cragen and the detectives turned to Munch, expressions of annoyance and surprise varying from face to face. "'No hard feelings'? That sounds like some sort of grudge to me," Munch defended.

"Yeah, a grudge," Olivia countered, "do you know how many people I've pissed off? There's perps, there's families of perps, there's victims who didn't get justice, family of victims that didn't get justice…" Munch raised an eyebrow and Olivia rolled her eyes, "Plus, old flames."

"That's a lot of suspects," Fin muttered.

Cragen shook his head, "Look, guys, we've got a lot to deal with right now. Let the bomb squad deal with this one."

"But Capt, it was Benson they targeted," Rollins argued, her southern drawl thicker due to her lack of sleep. As much as she hated to admit it, the bomb had really thrown her off her game. Not only was it at late night, but even when she did try to sleep, all she saw were flames. It didn't help her skin was red and raw either.

"It was one of ours, but we aren't authorized to follow bombings," Cragen defended. "Now, they've been here since three in the morning and they need to be going home soon. Go back to work, and if your desk is being occupied…" Cragen sighed in frustration, "Go follow your investigation to the streets."

The detectives all filed out of Cragen's office. Munch glanced at his desk, which was clean, then turned to Fin, "We should go talk to that waitress."

Fin scrunched up his face, "Waitress?"

Munch smiled, "Yeah, the one who knew the thing about that one case."

Fin shook his head, "You're crazy, old man. Our desks are clean; get to work."

Munch sighed, "You just don't know how to enjoy the simplicities of life, my friend."

"I think Fin just likes to keep his job," Cragen interjected. He glanced at Amaro and Benson's desks. "Benson, Amaro, you two head out." Cragen turned his attention to Rollins, "You finish off your DD-five."

"Yes, sir," Rollins replied heading back to her desk.

SVU

He tilted his head, trying to avoid the sun hitting his eyes directly. She was walking with a man now, but he knew it wasn't social. They both wore those shields and they both had arrogance in their walk. This man was younger, but he was just as smug as she was.

And to his surprise, Olivia was even more confident than before. She walked with poise and sureness, her head was high and her stride never faltered. Her hair was longer, he noticed, and her skin was darker.

His phone chirped in the passenger seat. "What?" he snapped in an irritated tone.

"Calm down," another man laughed, "It's not like I'm the police."

The man glared into the phone. He hated this kid. This kid was rude. This kid was cocky. But unfortunately for him, he needed this guy, "Look, Sparky, if this is going to work you need to follow the rules."

The man called Sparky scoffed, "Boss, this is going to work."

He closed his eyes and sighed, "Why are you calling me?"

"The Rollins bitch is sitting at her desk. She's been there all day. Where's Benson?"

He opened his eyes and looked out the window; Benson and the other man had entered some building. He scanned the windows quickly, but didn't see any sign of them. "I lost her," he seethed, "because of you."

Sparky laughed, "You're losing your touch, Boss."

The man growled and hung up. He couldn't deal with that snarky little ass right now. He had to focus, he had to find Benson. It had been years since he'd seen her, and, while he was older, he took satisfaction in seeing that she was older too.

He scanned the building again, but didn't see either detective. He found that the car they drove in was still in front of the building, and was comforted that that they were still interviewing the… well, he didn't care. As long as no one touched his Olivia, he'd be okay. She was his.

She was all his.

SVU

"Benson," Amaro said in a low whisper, "you see that Chevy?"

Benson raised an eyebrow and lifted her eyes to see it. The Chevy was rusted and red; it looked like it was already broken down, "Yeah," she shrugged, failing to see the significance of the clunker.

Nick nodded slowly and kept his eyes on the glass window opposite the car, "I saw it earlier when we were talking to Miss James."

Olivia frowned slightly and stared at the vehicle, lifting her sunglasses to inspect it closer. "You sure?"

Nick nodded, "I'm sure."

Olivia clicked her tongue and nodded, "Let's go ask him why." The two detectives stood and headed for the Chevy. Just as they hit the street, the old car purred to life and drove off. "You get the plates?" Benson shouted over the roar of the old car.

Nick had already taken out his notepad, "Got 'em."

Olivia stared at the beaten Chevy and sighed. "Let's get back and figure out who's tailin' us."

The two detectives got back into their car and headed back towards the station. "Do you think it's the guy who sent the flowers?" Nick asked after a few minutes of silence.

Olivia crinkled her brow, "You turning into Munch now?"

Nick gave a small smile that left his face just as quick as it came, "I'm serious. Olivia, if this guy was mad enough to send you those flowers, why wouldn't he be tailin' you? I bet he's heard no one died in that explosion."

Olivia turned back to Nick and studied him a moment, noticing he was serious. Olivia sighed, "Nick, I appreciate your concern, but I doubt it was the guy that sent the flowers. He wouldn't put himself that close to me; it isn't smart." Olivia turned, paused, and looked out the front of the car, "Besides, perps usually won't make a first statement that big."

Nick frowned, "What's that supposed to me?"

Olivia rolled her eyes, "I wouldn't be surprised if this guy has been angry for a long time. He hasn't made contact and he won't, it's not his style."

Amaro was skeptical, but he dropped it. Olivia seemed so confident that it was hard not to accept her confidence as truth. She was, after all, his mentor and partner. She'd been on the job a lot longer than he had, and if her stomach told her this guy with the red Chevy wasn't her perp, then it probably wasn't.

"Look," Olivia said when the silence was growing heavy on her, "I appreciate your concern, but I've got this."

Nick nodded, "Just looking out for my partner."

Olivia smiled again and turned her head back to her window. She attempted to think about something else, about the case and the perp's ex-girlfriend, but she can't help but think about that bomb. Not only was it a threat towards her, but Rollins was in that room too. Rollins was close to that bomb. Rollins could have been seriously hurt.

Olivia would never categorize herself has a person at risk, but if she had the time came and she had to take a bullet for someone, anyone, she would. She could handle her own pain. She had handled her own pain for years now, but knowing that someone else got hurt under her watch? That was too much. That was unacceptable.

No one could be hurt for Olivia.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose and barely restrained herself from rubbing her eyes.

"You okay?" Nick asked as he pulled up to the station.

Olivia opened her eyes and put on a smile, "Fine."

Nick looked at Olivia skeptically, but ignored his suspicions. He got out of the car and headed inside, the plates in his hand. Olivia followed behind him.

"Got anything?" Cragen asked the moment Amaro and Benson stepped into the squad room.

"The ex-girlfriend mentioned our vic had a lousy husband, used to knock her around," Nick informed. He shook his small notepad, "Also, we had a car tailing us." Rollins' head perked up from her paperwork. Nick headed to his own desk and began opened the DMV database. "Tell me, who are you?" Amaro said to the computer.

Olivia came up behind him and looked over his shoulder, "It's not a registered plate."

Nick frowned, "How can that be possible?"

"If the car's still on a lot somewhere, the car dealer may have just slapped something on," Olivia suggested. She sighed and went to her own desk, "Forget about the car, Nick. We have other things to worry about."

Amanda sat at her own desk and couldn't help her leg from shaking. Amaro noticed a car too? Why would that matter though? Rollins tried to rationalize. Benson had been threatened; it would make sense for a car to be after her. But why would there be one outside the station? The car that had been there all day had been a newer looking car, a BMW. She'd ran the plates but found they hadn't been registered either.

Rollins was almost afraid to make the connection.

"Uh, Amaro," Rollins called, almost tentatively. Unfortunately she not only got Nick's attention, but Fin's, Munch's and Olivia's as well. Amanda pursed her lips; they probably should hear this too. "You saw a car tailin' you and Benson?"

Nick raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

"There was a car parked out front of the station all day. The license plates on that car weren't registered either," Rollins confessed.

"When did you notice that?" Munch inquired.

Rollins shrugged, "Around eleven or so. I noticed that it was a nice car, then I noticed it never left. The weird thing was, though, that I am almost positive I saw someone sitting it in the whole time. I mean, my eyesight isn't what it used to be, but I swear the car wasn't empty."

Munch smiled, "I like this new batch; always suspicious."

Amaro wasn't amused, "There was a car at the station too?" Rollins nodded. "That can't be coincidence." He looked to his partner and frowned, "This guy's got it out for you. He's watching your workplace and… well, you. He's keeping his tabs on you."

The room was staring at Olivia, and she felt her face grow a little warm. She didn't like being the focus, and she certainly didn't like being the target of concern. One of the reasons she was brash when she began was because Munch used to look at her with these puppy dog eyes and she could hardly take it.

So Olivia toughened up, and Munch stopped being as protective. While part of Olivia was pained by the distance she'd put between herself and Munch, she was also comforted.

Distance. That was her normal.

The only person she ever got close to was Elliot, and she mentally kicked herself for even thinking of the man that had betrayed her so.

"Olivia, I think he might be right," it was Munch's soft voice that led Olivia back. She wasn't a rookie anymore; she wasn't a twenty-seven year old cutie who didn't understand SVU. No, she was a forty year old detective now. She understood her place and she knew New York City. She knew how to handle herself and she didn't need Munch's puppy dog eyes anymore.

"Guys, it's okay. This isn't the first time some pissed off perp tried to throw me off my game."

"Not all those pissed off perps send bombs either," Fin countered.

Olivia glared at the man, not consciously, but out of instinct. "Look, the bomb did some damage, but not that much. Rollins survived and I'm sure if I had been at my desk I would have too. That bomb was just a scare tactic."

"How do you know that?" Munch questioned, "Are you starting theories of your own now?"

Olivia took a deep breath, "Let's just drop it. We have a big enough caseload without worrying about me, and Cragen said the bomb squad was taking care of it."

"Liv," Fin said softly, "We just don't want you to become part of that caseload."

...

A/N: Reviews are love.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: It's LadyRiss again. I just love ya'all (and this story) so much I decided to give you another update. I thank all of you for your reviews and I really hope you keep reading.

Disclaimer: Not Mine.

…

The weeks passed by slowly, but still they passed.

The bomb squad had already declared Olivia's case cold, and the unregistered cars stopped appearing. Benson and Amaro arrested two rapists, and one of their cases ran cold. Fin and Munch not only had several arrests, but also convictions for their cases, and Rollins was able to make an arrest with Fin. Overall, the 1-6 appeared to be in shape. The detectives had finally caught up on most of the workload and were simply doing paperwork.

"I'm going to head out," Rollins declared as she shuffled the last of her papers. She'd been sitting for a solid six hours now, and her legs needed to stretch. A quick glance at the clock helped her to see she was long overdue for leave. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

The detectives gave simultaneous goodnights and reminders of safety. Rollins waved and briefly felt the gun on her hip, reassured. The heavy metal on her side always brought a sense of comfort to the petite blonde. She may be small and feisty, but that gun was powerful. It was comfort.

Amanda shivered slightly when the New York air hit her. Georgia was always warm; anything below thirty was cause for alarm. In the city though… in the city, it felt like warmth was just a distant memory. She knew New York would get hot come summer, but summer felt so far away that she hardly believed it would ever happen.

"It's hardly cold," Fin had joked when the two were on the street a few days ago. Rollins couldn't think of a response that didn't sound silly, so she had just wrapped her arms around herself tighter than before. Fin had just laughed.

The memory made Amanda chuckle softly to herself as she walked home, and, by the time she was at her apartment, she was happy and her legs had limbered. She shook her head at herself, amused that she had the ability to entertain herself like a child, and opened her door.

She turned on a few lights and tossed her purse on the small table near the door along with her keys. She hung up her coat and headed for the kitchen, the thought of hot chocolate too enticing to pass up. She felt the weight on her hip and laughed once again, sometimes she forgot her gun was still on her. It was just so natural, that heaviness.

She unlatched her holster and set the gun and badge aside.

"Hot chocolate like Mama used to make," she said to herself with a smile, "with just a pinch of honey." She walked to the kitchen again and made her drink. The first sip of the hot liquid was perfect, and warmed her chilled bones. She glanced at her microwave for the time and sighed. It was only eleven at night; she'd never be able to sleep—even if she wanted to.

Amanda walked to her living room and turned on her television, flipping through the endless amount of channels. "How is it that I pay a hundred dollars a month for television and there's nothing on?" she mused aloud with a hint of annoyance. Eventually she found a History Channel Special, and allowed that to lull her to sleep.

To be honest, Amanda hadn't slept in her actual bed for a while. The nightmares were too real in the dark, secluded room. She at least felt safe in the living room. On her couch there was always quick access to an easy exit.

Slowly, with the white noise of the TV, Amanda fell asleep.

SVU

"Wake up."

It was whisper, harsh and close. Amanda's heart raced instantly, and she twisted slightly, attempting to rid herself of this known nightmare.

"I said: Wake. Up."

A weight was added and in Amanda's panicked and half-asleep mind, she thought Murphy. Her eyes flew open and apologies instantly slipped out, "I'm sorry, I'll get it soon, I promise. Just give me until next week."

A dark laugh came closer to her ears and she realized the voice didn't belong to Murphy. After all, it couldn't be Murphy, he was in jail. Amanda looked around and realized that the TV was off, that all the lights were off and that someone was on top of her.

Amanda tried to think of her training. She tried to think of defense moves and of things to say, but there was nothing. All she could feel was a stifling panic in her chest.

"Aw, what's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" The voice whispered close to her ear. He laughed and rubbed her cheek with his own before inhaling deeply, "What shampoo do you use?"

Amanda's stomach dropped, "What do you want?" Her arms were pinned between their bodies and his legs held hers down.

The man just smiled, his white teeth gleaming as the moonlight hit them. "Amanda," he said softly, "you should know what I want." Amanda remained silent, cursing herself for giving up the protection of her gun. "I've been watching you," he said after a moment.

Amanda's mind fluttered back to the BMW that wasn't registered. "Why?" Questions always stalled, and God knows needed time.

"You have this routine, you know. It's pathetic really… get a bagel from the Corner Bakery, go to work, come home, make your precious hot chocolate," he sneered, "fall asleep to some show and repeat." He paused a moment, "You never sleep in your room… why is that Detective?" A sick smile spread across his lips, making Amanda's bones quiver and her stomach churn. "I bet you didn't even know your bedroom window as unlocked. It's been unlocked for days now…" Amanda's heart raced. How had she been so stupid as to not check the windows? "Getting in was easy, you know," he said, that sick smile still spread upon his lips.

"Why?" Amanda swallowed and questioned again.

"You hurt a friend of mine," the man whispered, "your lies hurt him." He pressed his body close to her and she felt a bulge. "And now I want to hurt you."

Amanda's heart stopped a moment while her throat clogged with unshed tears and burned with agony. Flashbacks flooded her mind faster than she was able to process them; images of another man, another night, another nightmare. When the man before her laughed she couldn't differentiate between the past and present. All she could do was mutter one word. "Don't."

He laughed again and a deep hatred burned inside her. She hated him, but she hated herself more. How could she let this happen again? How could she, a New York City detective, allow another man to do this to her? And not just another man, but some pissed off civilian for that matter. Because this guy, this guy had to be a civilian. He just had to be.

"Why are you fighting?" the man asked darkly, bringing his face close to hers, "we both know it's pointless."

Amanda continued to fight. If for nothing else, she couldn't let the other detectives see her like this. She couldn't let Fin see her victimized, especially after his reaction to Murphy's punches. She couldn't handle seeing Munch look at her the way he'd looked at Olivia the day after the flowers. She didn't want Nick to be strong while she broke. She sure as hell didn't want Olivia to see her after… after this. Olivia was a kind woman, but she was her mentor. Amanda looked up to Olivia, and she didn't want to have to tell her that she'd been violated and victimized for the second time in less than a year.

Rollins would be too embarrassed to ever face her coworkers again if this happened…

So she fought.

She found strength within her, a white, pure anger, and pushed the man off her when he went to unzip his pants. The man wobbled enough above her that she was able to pull her legs out from beneath him. She swung her legs around and leapt off the couch. She headed for the table beside her door and searched for her gun.

Nothing.

Amanda's mind panicked. Her gun was always next to her keys and purse. She had a ritual she followed and if the gun was missing… Amanda froze at the possibility that the man had it. "Bitch," she heard the man groan from behind her.

Amanda groped for the door. If she didn't have her gun, the next best thing to do was run. Just as she was turning the handle, the man slammed up behind her. She grunted at the sudden impact.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The man sneered, pulling Amanda away from the door. She attempted to throw herself from his grasp, but he was strong and her legs hit nothing but air as he held her arms back.

Rollins screamed.

"Shut up," the man seethed. He threw her back to the couch and she rolled off. When she stood the two paused a moment, both attempting to predict the other's move. Rollins felt heat rush through her body as adrenaline circulated through her veins. She needed to get to the bedroom, lock herself in and call the police. With a racing heart she looked around her living room, attempting to map out an escape route.

Her eyes found a vase.

In one swift move, she picked up the vase and threw it at the man. While he shielded his face, she ran towards her room. Loud footsteps followed behind her and she knew he was only a step or two behind her. By the time she reached her room and was able to shut the door, he had pushed himself halfway through it.

"You little bitch," he cursed.

She pushed against the door, using all her might to shut it. This was all she needed, a barrier. 'A flimsy wooden barrier he'll kick down,' she thought. Rollins pushed harder.

Soon, she heard a sharp crack and realized she'd won, the door was shut. She locked it quickly and pushed the dresser in front of it. The door rattled and soon a loud pop sound was heard.

He was breaking the door down.

Rollins grabbed her phone and shakily dialed 911, keeping a steady eye on the door.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"This is detective Amanda Rollins of Manhattan SVU," she breathed into the phone, "there's an intruder in my house and I need assistance immediately."

Rollins heard the click of keys on the other end, "Your address is 1457 Clark, apartment 6B?"

"Yes," Rollins breathed as another boom reverberated off the walls as he ran into the door again, "Hurry," she whispered, hints of desperation evident in her voice, before hanging up the phone and tossing it to the floor. She retreated to her closet and pulled out the old baseball bat she kept for emergencies.

Sirens sounded in the distance and Rollins breathed a sigh of relief at how quickly the NYPD had responded to her call. The man outside must have heard it too because she heard him curse and was almost positive she heard retreating footsteps.

Amanda stayed locked in her room until she heard the police rush into her apartment with a booming "NYPD!" She left her bedroom with her hands up, "Don't shoot!"

Two young officers approached her slowly. "Is he still here?" one asked, his eyes searching the small, dark apartment.

Amanda shook her head silently and turned on a light. The officers hissed slightly at the sudden brightness, but quickly recovered.

"Are you alright, Ma'am?" the other officer asked. He took in her appearance and blanched slightly. Rollins' heart raced and she wondered what he saw. "Ma'am," he said again slowly, taking in her attire.

Amanda looked down at herself and saw that her jeans were unzipped while her shirt was torn. Her brow furrowed and she wondered how she hadn't noticed that. She looked back up to the young man, who she silently concluded had to be a rookie, "I'm fine."

He turned to his partner, "Shouldn't we call SVU?"

"He didn't rape me!" Rollins nearly shouted while zipping up her pants.

The older officer stared at the blonde for a moment, taking in her exterior. Both of these men seemed clueless on how to handle rape, and she wondered how either of them had managed to get a badge.

"Ma'am," he said slowly, "what happened here?"

Amanda crossed her arms and stumbled over what to say. Would they call in SVU for an attempted rape? She wasn't even sure; she'd never dealt with an attempted rape before.

"I'm calling SVU," the young detective declared before Amanda could give her answer.

She sighed and ran both of her hands through her hair before pushing past the two policemen. She headed to her couch and froze when she saw her gun. It was lying on her kitchen counter, still in its holster with her badge. "Dammit," she cursed. She had forgotten she'd put it there. She had completely forgotten. "What the hell's the point," she said through clenched teeth, "to have a gun when you forget to use the thing."

Amanda fumed silently and sat on her couch, spotting the shattered vase. That was going to be a pain in the ass to clean…

"Amanda," it was Benson who came rushing to the door, "are you okay?"

Amanda felt her face go red, shame and embarrassment settling in as Olivia looked at her with concern, "I'm fine."

Olivia looked around the apartment. "What the hell happened?" She continued to look around the apartment and spotted the two responding officers in Amanda's hallway before turning back to Amanda. A question rose to Olivia's lips, but it was stifled when she saw the tear in Amanda's shirt and the missing button on her jeans.

"Nothing happened," Amanda assured defensively when she saw Olivia's eyes travel to her jeans.

"Amanda…" Olivia quietly replied, concerned.

"Nothing happened," she retorted again with more conviction, "I stopped it and called for backup."

Olivia nodded slowly, "Can you tell me exactly what happened?" she said, taking a seat beside Amanda on the couch, surrounded by debris of broken glass and tension.

Amanda bit the inside of her cheek and rubbed the back of her neck. She dropped her hand and felt herself shrug while shaking her head, "I came home from work and fell asleep on the couch. Next thing I know, there's a guy on top of me." Memories of different assaults came to mind and Amanda felt tears prickling at her eyes. She took a deep breath and quickly blinked them away. "I was able to push him off of me, and then I barricaded myself in my room. Next I called for backup. When he heard sirens, he bolted."

Olivia frowned, "Did he say anything to you?" she asked in her usual bravado, even though feelings of pity were flowing from the young woman's masked nervousness. She wanted so badly just to reach out, to give her some sort of physical lifeline. She just wanted her to know that she was there for her, that the young blonde wasn't alone.

She stopped herself, rationally recognizing that Amanda was almost as stubborn as herself. Any sign of pity would upset her more, and potentially erase any trust Amanda had for her.

Rollins nodded softly, searching her mind for what he had said. She wanted to kick herself for forgetting so soon after the incident. It was her job to pay attention to detail, to pray witnesses and victims could remember the little things, and yet she couldn't even do that? What sort of detective was she?

"He said that my lies hurt his friend and so he was going to hurt me," she admitted quietly.

"Did you recognize the voice?" Olivia's voice was soft and her eyes searched Amanda's face, looking for any sign of recognition.

Amanda shook her head, "No."

Olivia stared at Rollins a moment and saw the blonde struggle with something. "What is it?" she asked in the same soft voice.

Amanda sighed and subconsciously wrapped her arms around herself. "He knew my routine… he…he told me my routine," she struggled to face the reality. "I think he's been watching me," she admitted, biting her lip.

"A stalker," Olivia asked, voicing it as a statement rather than a question.

Amanda nodded, but didn't say anything. Olivia sighed and looked around Rollins' apartment again. "You got any place you can stay tonight? CSU will be here soon, help us catch the bastard before he does anything stupid."

Amanda almost laughed.

Almost.

Of course she didn't have anyone in New York. Her entire family was in Georgia and since she'd moved into the city the only people she'd met were the other detectives and Murphy. The detectives may be friendly at the work place, but she didn't see any of them opening up their homes to her. "Yeah," she quickly lied, already planning to sleep in the cribs.

Olivia smiled sympathetically, "Why don't you go pack a bag and I'll drive you there."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Amanda quickly brushed off the offer. "I'll be fine, really," she attempted to cover.

"Amanda," Olivia said slowly, tenderness underlined with authority, "a man broke into your apartment and attacked you. He's running around, right now…" She stared at the young detective and pushed aside the voice that said she'd say the same thing, "You're lucky I don't make you go to the hospital."

Amanda scoffed at the last statement and put her hands on her hips before dropping them and sighing. "Look, why don't you just take me to the precinct," she suggested. "My friends live way upstate and it'd be a hassle for both of us."

Olivia bit her tongue on a memorized speech about being someplace she felt safe and realized that Rollins probably felt safest at the precinct. Olivia also wanted to keep an eye on the younger woman, worry crawling through her, perhaps the precinct would be best.

"Fine," Olivia agreed, "go pack a bag and we can go there together."

Rollins made a small gesture that looked like a nod and stepped over the broken vase, heading to her bedroom. She silently packed a small bag: pajamas, clothes for the next day, before heading into the bathroom and grabbing her toiletries.

As she walked out of her apartment, Olivia close on her heel, Amanda couldn't help but feel slightly defeated by the disarray that was her life.

…

A/N: Again, reviews are love. I also want to give a shout out to TheTBone for editing this chapter. She's a lovely lady and you should check out her stories. :) Also, her next update is coming with Chapter 4. It'll be a good one, promise. Much love, guys!


	4. Chapter 4

**SVU doesn't belong to us! *Crosses arms and pouts.***

Amanda haphazardly tossed her bag onto one of the white-sheeted mats that served as a bed in the cribs. She ran her hand through her short blonde hair, pulling it into a messy ponytail, taking a moment to compose herself to a faint resemblance of a calm person for her own sake. She breathed and closed her eyes, quickly realizing the latter to be a bad idea.

Darkness was never good when she got like this.

Darkness was torture.

It didn't prove to be the release into nothingness she was hoping for, not the clutch of escape she so desperately wanted, instead serving as a blank viewing screen for all the horrible things that had happened. Earlier that night, earlier that year, earlier in her life - the darkness was her past, and she just couldn't seem to find the light of the future.

Her breath caught quickly in her throat before she opened her eyes again, feeling foolish.

She was right there, right in the precinct, right where she was safe.

It was here where she could protect herself.

And yet, every time she blinked she forgot.

She shook her head, clearing all of the thoughts that were rushing through her mind. A few little words and situations ricocheted off of her brain like an internal pinball machine, and she begged it to stop.

She really needed some sleep. _Sleep_, she thought, _that was a joke_. There would most definitely be no sleep tonight. She pondered going to the main level of the precinct and catching up on some work. What would be the harm in that? She'd get things accomplished and keep herself from going insane. She contemplated this, eying the bed longingly before sighing.

She couldn't bring herself to take the plunge and attempt drifting off, since she knew it was hopeless. Instead she tiptoed down the stairs. She yawned and brought her computer screen to life before opening up her file cabinet, pawing through the cases.

Her cases.

How nice it felt to be able say that.

Her job at her desk, all things that belonged to her, a tiny luxury in a world where everything had been taken away. Her feeling of security, her job back home, her happy-go-lucky attitude she once had, even her innocence…in more ways than one.

But she wouldn't allow herself to think too in-depth.

She swallowed again and put her head in her hands.

God, this night sucked.

She hated so much to be this kind of the person. The one always relying on the past, and never getting to live life in the present. She worked so hard every day to put on the façade that she was that kind of person.

But that was just it: a façade.

Sometimes she even convinced herself in the peacefulness of the daylight, without the shadow of doubt and horrifying memories forced by the parts and pieces of all of them that still lived within the chinks of her mind and buried deep within her soul.

All of them lived in her like a splinter, her skin simply growing over to hide them and their ruthlessness.

But they were always there infecting her.

Her spinning head spun even harder when she heard the sounds. All of the sounds combined, forming daunting white noise. The taunting, the laughing, the false compliments, the too-real threats, all of them spinning the web that was impossible to break through. New footsteps were added this time; Amanda thought nothing of them under the circumstances. Just another foreboding sound adding to the pressure.

But the tangible feeling of sudden slight weight on her shoulder wasn't imagined, right? It couldn't be…

Clutching the table, Amanda flipped around to meet the figure at her back, involuntarily gasping as a chilling shock ran down her spine.

"Calm down, it's all right, it's just me," the person said, quickly throwing her hands back into sight and reassuring Rollins.

Amanda clutched her chest, but hastily placed her hands by her side when she realized who was there. "Oh, Olivia, I just…I didn't know anyone else was here. I thought I was alone…" she said, masking her racing heart. She'd be surprised if Olivia couldn't hear it from a few feet away. "Where…um…where were you?" she endeavored to compose herself yet again, this time for the sake of the other detective.

"I was just running home to get a few things before heading back here. Why are you not in the cribs?" she inquired.

"Oh, couldn't sleep. I had some caffeine earlier tonight, it must be kicking in," she made a failure of a plausible excuse. "Why…uh…why are you here exactly?"

"Well I wasn't about to leave you here alone after everything that happened," she reasoned.

"Olivia, really, you don't need to do this," Amanda said, hating to impose, embarrassed at the attracted attention.

"Fine," Olivia sighed.

"So are you leaving?" Amanda asked, trying to divert the terror from her voice. She wasn't bipolar, she really wasn't, but the prospect of Olivia leaving made her nervous. However much she hated the attention which, trust her, she did, the thought of being alone again outweighed it. She didn't know why, but she immediately felt better once Olivia was around. The sense of security returned just a notch.

"Hell no, I'll just keep in mind to word it differently next time," Olivia replied with a small smile. "Come on, let's go to sleep," she extended her hand in order to help the younger detective up.

"But I told you I can't sleep," Rollins said, now panicking at the thought of having to return to the dark room and the expectation to close her eyes again.

"Oh, because of the caffeine, right?" Olivia snorted, rolling her eyes. However, upon seeing the redness and unintentional crease in the blonde's forehead she immediately stopped her good-natured teasing.

"Look," Olivia bent her knees slightly to get closer to the level of the desk. "I understand that you're scared, and after what that bastard did you have every right to be, but you of all people should know that you're safe here. You're not alone here, all right? You don't have to-"

"Stop!" Amanda blurted out quickly, causing Olivia to blink and stumble back a bit.

She didn't say this rudely, but rather automatically. Nothing was wrong. She couldn't talk about it if there was something, because that would make it real. Pretending made it so it never happened. If you didn't talk about it, it wasn't true.

Realizing that Olivia was still staring at her, wide-eyed and confused, Amanda realized she was probably expecting an explanation for the sudden outburst.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I just…don't need the speech. While I appreciate it, it's just…it's not necessary… I mean, I'm fine," she forced a smile. "Really I am. I guess I'm just…tired," she forced the last word through her teeth, shoving it out of her mouth. "You know, you're right, let's go get some sleep," she said finally, changing the subject, and getting up to leave before another word could be said.

SVU

Olivia had spent countless nights in this very spot.

It was almost like a reserved little area. It was like she was coming back to at summer camp, lying in a reserved bunk just for her when she needed it.

Sometimes she used it for its intended purpose of sleeping when it was too late to travel home. However, this didn't happen as much as it probably should have. More often than not she fell asleep right on her desk, her cheek stuck on a paper clip or stapler, therefore causing an imprint the next morning, hereby facing mockery from Munch and Fin all of that day. ("I think she took the saying '_be _the case' a little too literally.'" "Hey, Benson, you got somethin' on your face!")

Sometimes it was used in unique situations, like that one time where there was a snowstorm and going out wasn't an option. (At least that's what the Captain had said when she protested that she was more than capable of driving home, blizzard warning or not.)

And still there were times when she slept there for someone else. With Nathan, the boy who had to watch his mother murdered right before his eyes, and now with Rollins.

She understood the situation Amanda was in.

The first few years of her working at the precinct, she too spent many nights right where she was lying now, thirteen years later.

It wasn't that the cases got easier; it was that she got more a stomach for it all.

She learned to deal with the stress in healthier ways than hiding from her life. She learned to take the pressure in a better way than giving up all sense of normalcy and routine.

That wasn't to say it was easy. It didn't happen right away. Hell, there were even a few times in the past couple of months she found herself not wanting to venture back to her apartment, instead finding a way to a bunk.

But those times were much more sporadic now, the fears and frights much less impactful, the returning memories much less a part of her life outside the job.

She had her days, but it had mostly passed.

She found a way to cope, and she was determined to help Amanda find the same peace she'd eventually accomplished, victorious over the obstacles they faced.

Lying on the bed in the dark, she stared at the ceiling, thinking thoughts of hope. And with those in mind, she allowed herself to peacefully float into sleep.

SVU

Olivia awoke to the sound of heaves.

Slitting her eyes and crinkling her eyebrow, she inquired as to what could be making this noise. Of course, it being early morning, there were certain thoughts she was seriously pondering that didn't make the most of sense. ("When did my alarm clock starting sounding like _that?_" "Did Munch prank me and turn my ringtone to something disgusting?")

Realizing that the sound was in fact coming from a real live person, she looked over to the other bed as the memories of earlier came flooding back to her in a dazed, fuzzy heap, clearing out over moments of understanding.

She came to the only logical conclusion and eventually comprehended the fact that Amanda Rollins was not in bed, and the only sensible solution was that she was the source of the gagging and coughing.

Pushing herself off the cot in concern, Olivia padded to the small single bathroom attached to the rows of bedding.

When she pressed on the wooden door to fully open it, her suspicions were confirmed. Kneeling next to the toilet was the young detective, sweat pasting her loose blonde hair to her forehead, tears-the natural reaction to sickness-sticking to her to her face, her palm resting and weakly supporting her head, her elbow resting upon the white fixture.

Olivia couldn't help but think she looked so…young.

Caught between the place of wanting to nurture, but not to patronize, Olivia was at a loss at how to react. After all, Amanda was an adult, and she was certainly stubborn. Though Olivia had no doubt she was capable of taking care of herself, she was distressed at the thought of her actually doing so.

Offering to help would no doubt be met with refusal, and the prospect of her ill, on the floor, in the middle of the night was enough to make Olivia sick as well.

Seeing no other option, she decided that taking charge was her best bet here. Olivia knew that, if she were in the same situation, she would decline the assistance. Hell, she'd been in the same situation. The only difference? There were no offers to reject.

Her first few weeks of SVU, her entire childhood, it was all the same. And the saddest part of the story was that no one was ever there to hold her hand and help her through it.

"Amanda," Olivia said in a loud whisper, knocking gently on the doorway.

Amanda's head jerked around, her balance kept only by her hands on the toilet for support.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to-to freak out and wake you up. I meant to shut the door but it must have crept open a crack. I tried to be quiet so you could sleep but I must've been too loud and-" she explained quickly and with desperation.

"Shh, calm down, you're fine," Olivia assured putting her hand out.

"I really didn't want to bother you. I should've been quieter, I mean that's why I-"

"I've always been a light sleeper."

"But-"

"You're fine, I promise. Please don't worry about it."

Amanda let out a breath through her nose and forced out a pained smile before putting her hand to her mouth and emptying her stomach again.

Sensing her helplessness, Olivia took this as her cue to intervene. Moving to the collapsed figure, she wordlessly sat down next to her while holding her hair out of her face and placing a supportive hand on her back.

Catching her breath, Amanda gained control of her body again and inhaled slowly, shaking a bit from the wrenching retches.

"You okay?" Olivia asked softly.

Amanda nodded with an unconvincing bob of her head.

Olivia nodded and helped her sit against the wall before opening the supply closet and grabbing a plastic cup, filling it with cold water and handing it to the blonde.

Rollins nodded a slight movement, a mixture of embarrassment and appreciation before taking the water and sipping it greedily. "Thank you," she murmured, fiddling with the cup in her hands.

"No problem," Olivia returned, now wetting a paper towel and handing it to the other detective.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Rollins excused the make-do wash cloth.

"Trust me, you'll feel better."

Sighing, Rollins complied and placed it on her forehead; most likely realizing arguing would prove to be fruitless.

"So what's going on? You sick?" Olivia asked, now sinking down to join Rollins on the floor.

"It's probably just a little bug," Amanda fibbed.

Olivia affirmed this, though she didn't believe it for a second. She took a deep breath, warning herself to approach the subject with caution. It was time, and it was necessary. "You know, if you need to talk about something you can. Whether it's with me or someone else that works here or a therapist or whoever, it doesn't matter," she started. "But I do think that talking about it, whatever 'it' is, would be beneficial. I don't mean to sound preachy or to make you uncomfortable, but," Olivia let out a breath, searching for the right words, "I get it. I know that you're scared and you try to hide it, trust me, I get that. And that's fine, it's needed, in this job you need to be tough and you have to be able to set aside your feelings and focus. But please, please don't feel like you can't open up outside the job. Because I know that no one is going to judge you or think less of you if you ever want to talk."

There was a pause, and Olivia looked over to see if Amanda had even heard her.

"I don't know that," she finally said, staring across the room.

"Don't know what?" Olivia asked confused. More silence. "Amanda, don't know what?" she asked quieter, moving to look into her eyes.

"I don't know that no one is judging what I say. My entire life, that's all there's been is judgment. My family, my friends, my town after…after the first time. Same goes for the last place I worked, so don't you tell me that people aren't going to judge and that this world is just full of compassion and unicorns running around on damn rainbows, because I know first hand that that's bullshit," she said venomously, searching Olivia's eyes.

Whether it was from exhaustion, or whether it was a first step at an honest emotional release, Olivia couldn't yet tell. All she knew that this was a side of Amanda she hadn't yet seen, and that she'd finally broken a bit. The small touches on past events, the pure desperation and anguish in her voice; it was the exact formula for a victim. So Olivia did the only thing she knew how when this happened.

"Then tell me," Olivia practically pleaded. "Talk to me, tell the problem so that I can _help _you," she beseeched. "Honey, you can't keep this all bottled up, because if you do, it's going to destroy you," Olivia said, a new sense of urgency in her voice at the sight of the microscopic moisture accumulating upon Amanda's tear ducts.

Rollins closed her eyes, letting out a quivering breath. "I have nightmares," she admitted slowly.

"How often?" Olivia prompted calmly.

"Almost every night," she said, almost ashamed, head bowed and eyes closed. "I can't eat without feeling sick; I can't sleep without seeing his face. Who the hell am I kidding, I can't sleep period, I can't…I just feel trapped," she confessed. "Every time I close my eyes or-or see something that reminds me, I tense up and I obsess. Every single place I turn it feels like I just keep remembering them and I can't stop," she shrugged, vulnerable. "And I've tried, I swear I've tried, I've tried everything," she promised. "All the pills all the, the tips, I've tried them. And I know you think I'm crazy to take this job with something like that, but it helps me. Bringing them in and helping other people helps me move on, you know? But at the end of the day," she opened her eyes with a shaky breath, "I'm still me. I'm not superwoman or a miracle worker, and I feel…alone." she confessed, allowing Olivia in.

Amanda's arm flinched when Olivia placed a tender hand on her shoulder. However, Olivia's hand remained, almost insisting that Amanda accept the small gesture of comfort she was offering, forcing her to relieve some of her burden. "It's okay to feel like that. And it's going to take time, and it's not easy, but you can get through it. And it's going to be hard, and frankly it's going to suck, because this job, frankly that's just what it does. It sucks. Dealing with these people everyday, dealing with the emotional rollercoaster, the mental toll it takes on you, it's not healthy. One second you feel fine, and the next second you find yourself thinking one more second is going to break you, and hope in the world is impossible, and you find yourself saying 'how am I going to do this?' But you know what? You do."

"How?" Amanda asked, weakly. "How do you…how do you survive after everything?"

"You understand that even though there's a whole lot of bad, there's a whole lot of good. And you're part of that percentage that's good. You can be that voice, that beacon of light for someone else," Olivia paused. "And eventually, you realize that some people _are _worth trusting."

"Trust," Amanda repeated, slightly skeptical.

"Trust," Olivia said with conviction, pushing down hypocritical feelings. "Everyone has problems with that one, especially me. But I'll tell you what, I'll work on it. We can learn together."

"Weed out the prince charmings from the royal assholes?" Rollins asked with a smirk.

"Yeah, if you want to put it that way," Olivia said, cracking a smile too. "Listen, I meant what I said. You want to talk, my door's always open. Well, actually it'd be locked, but my phone's always on," she joked. "And I'm here now," she offered.

"I'll remember that," Amanda said, genuinely curving her lips into an appreciative smile.

Olivia nodded and helped her up. _One step at a time_, she thought, _one step at a time._

**Reviews are love! =)**

**~TheTBone**


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: It's Riss… Sorry this took so long! Me and TBone had written some chapters a long time ago and well… they involved David so I had to fix that up. Anyway, enjoy! Next chapter is written by me too, so bug me, not poor TBone!

Disclaimer: Not ours.  
…

The next few days passed in a haze for Amanda. She attempted to continue working her assigned cases, but found it difficult to focus when the rest of the squad was working on hers. The detectives tried to be discreet, but the hushed whispers were louder than screams to Amanda.

"Erickson didn't have any family and he didn't put up much of a fight."

"He still threatened her."

"They all do."

"Are we sure it's not Murphy?"

Amanda had wanted to strangle Munch for saying that. She didn't know the older detective well, but she didn't like that he knew about her gambling. She especially hated that he knew about Murphy. It had been embarrassing enough to admit to Fin that Murphy had knocked her around a bit, worse to admit it to Cragen and absolutely humiliating to have Benson and Amaro walk in on her while she was crying to the Captain. And now Munch was skeptical that she hadn't stopped?

"Nah, she's straight now." At least her partner was standing up for her.

Sometimes the detectives asked her straight forward for information and Nick had even 'gone for coffee' so she could take a peek at the file. The detectives were running on nothing. She hadn't been in Manhattan SVU long enough to really piss anyone off, and back in Georgia the only noticeable case she ever worked on was the Atlantic Coast Rapist; who they had caught and learned to be Brian Smith.

Three days after her attack CSU gave her a new set of keys and three more rapes cases came in. Amanda knew it wasn't the detectives' fault, but she also knew her case was going to grow cold quick. If she was being honest with herself, she didn't mind. The amount of attention drawn to her over the attack was enough to make her stomach queasy. The guy might have still been out there, but she knew criminals rarely came back after, especially if they had been scared away by the police.

He might still be out there, but Amanda made damn sure every window was locked and her gun was always beside her.

"I'm going to go home," Amanda said, standing and cracking her back.

Olivia looked up quickly, her face a mixture of confusion and concern, "Home?"

Amanda felt her face flush and zipped her coat higher, hoping to hide her embarrassment, "Yeah. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"I'm going to head home too, want a ride?" Fin offered quickly.

Amanda looked to her partner and smiled, "That'd be nice."

Fin grabbed his coat and shut his computer down quickly, "Let's go."

The two detectives left and Olivia's anxiety was lightened. If Fin was any kind of partner, he'd stay in his car until Amanda flashed her lights for him… Olivia smiled at the memory of Elliot. She had been so young then…

"I've been thinking about Amanda's attacker," Nick said to Olivia once he was sure Amanda had left.

Olivia raised an eyebrow, "Yeah?"

"Remember she mentioned that car, parked outside the precinct all day a few weeks back? Well, I think the guy was watching her. What if…"He said in a whisper, "What if he was watching you and sent you the flowers, so we'd only be focusing on you."

Olivia thought about it and guilt settled in her stomach. If that was true, if she had been sent flowers as a distraction so the perp could get to Rollins… She'd never forgive herself. "But we haven't seen a car since," Olivia reasoned.

Nick shook his head, "Maybe the guy got smart; started using more than one vehicle or just started doing his surveillance on foot. There's a lot of people in New York. It's easy to get lost in a crowd."

Olivia frowned slightly, she hoped Nick was wrong. Stalkers got dangerous and they got dangerous quick. They were also hard to charge and even harder to actually prosecute. While the stalker fixated on a victim, they rarely made a threat until it was too late. Like Rollins' attack… "You think he's still watching her?"

Nick shrugged, "I don't know." He looked around the station house and realized that both Cragen and Munch had left while they were talking. "We'll watch Rollins' back more closely in the morning."

Olivia looked around the deserted precinct too and blinked her eyes. How had it gotten so late so quick? She checked her phone and, even though she was expecting it, was disappointed when there were no missed calls or texts. She was too stubborn to admit it out loud, but she missed David.

Amaro saw the sadness creep up on Olivia's features. He grabbed his coat and gave her a hard look, "Try to have a goodnight, Detective."

SVU

Olivia walked into her empty apartment and sighed.

_We, this, never happened._

David had started looking through her cases, but he somehow was able to stay out of her way. She knew he was there, Cragen had announced to all the detectives that interrogation room three was off limits while he worked. At most, she saw a few of his jockeys running around for him.

She still couldn't decide if she was relieved or hurt by that.

Olivia shook her head quickly and pushed aside the thought of David when the thought of Calvin crept into her mind. The young boy had once occupied her apartment too…

She pushed herself away from the door and refused to let any other memory fill her head. She needed sleep.

SVU

Olivia woke to the beep of her phone. It was softer than her old ringtone, allowing her to be lulled out of sleep opposed to being rudely awaken in her nerves on high. "Benson," she said attempting to swallow the sleep from her voice. A crackle sounded on the other end. Olivia rubbed her eyes, "Benson."

When there was no reply she put the phone away from her ear, wincing when the small screen lit her entire room. Unavailable. She put the phone back to her ear, "Hello?"

Irritation set in and she hung up.

The phone chirped again.

"Benson."

Still no response.

She hung up again.

By the fifth ring Olivia had it. "It's against the law to make prank calls, boys," she assumed, "Call again and I'm reporting this." She hung up and thought about turning her phone on silent. The only thing that stopped her was that it was her turn to be on call for the night. And if she missed a call… Cragen would have her ass.

"Teenagers," she mumbled to herself attempting to sleep again. However they got her number, they were going to regret it if they called again.

And they did.

"What?" She ignored the calls seven times before she answered again, her temper flaring.

Now she heard breathing, it was labored and sounded more like a pant.

She hung up, angry. Whoever thought it was funny to call a detective at two in the morning was sorely mistaken. It was aggravating and she was becoming more and more angry.

The phone rang again and Olivia wondered why she ever disconnected her house phone services. "I swear, if you call one more time I will report you. This is an officer of the law you're calling."

"I know." Olivia hadn't expected an answer, and hearing one made her pause. She kept the phone to ear, waiting for more. "Goodnight, Olivia."

SVU

Nick took in Olivia's appearance the next morning and frowned, "You alright?"

Olivia rubbed her eye and smiled briefly, "Yeah." Nick stared at her for a moment and Olivia felt the pressure of his stare weighing down on her. "I didn't get much sleep."

"Everything alright?" Nick asked, concern underlying in his casual mannerisms.

Olivia almost laughed, "I'm fine."

The phone calls weren't anything particular and she didn't see the need to tell anyone at the station about them. Olivia had worked in SVU long enough to know that those calls were from teenagers. Dumb boys who found a voice changer and who probably got her card at the high school where she gave presentations.

Because the real criminals didn't waste time with breathing. Real stalkers just hung up when their victim answered, the real perps told the victim where they were standing and how they could see them.

These boys just breathed, and told her goodnight.

"Olivia?" Munch asked, driving Olivia from her thoughts, "You alright?"

Olivia looked up and saw that Nick, Fin, and Amanda were gone. "Fine," she answered quickly.

John saw her look around and gave a soft smile, "They went to get some lunch. You sure you're fine?"

Olivia smiled and nodded, "Yeah."

The two worked in silence. Olivia finished filing some paperwork and was even able to begin filing some for Amanda's case. Olivia hated to admit it, but the chances of finding Amanda's attacker were growing slimmer by the second. There were no suspicious fingerprints in Amanda's place, nor was there any out of place DNA.

"I scratched him," Amanda had told Olivia the other night in a whisper. "Dammit, I scratched him and then I didn't go to the hospital."

Olivia masked her frown, but she couldn't help but feel that may have ruined the case. If Amanda really did scratch him, and there was evidence under her nails, Olivia knew it was long gone by now. Olivia had comforted Amanda when she began to beat herself up about it, but Olivia was thinking the same thing. Why hadn't she gone to the hospital? Why hadn't she told Olivia about the evidence?

Olivia exhaled slowly while rubbing her eye again and grabbed Amanda's case file from her drawer. When she pulled the file out a sheath of papers fell through. They scattered across the floor and made a mess right at her feet. "Great," she huffed to herself. She knelt down and picked up the disheveled papers quickly. When she shuffled them back into place, a small white card fell from the mess.

_No Hard Feelings_

Olivia stared at the card. With a racing heart, she flipped it over.

_To my Olivia_

"Olivia?" Munch called out, seeing her newly blanched face.

Olivia looked up, confusion written on her face. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed, and perspiration was on her brow, "John…"

John's heart immediately started pounding. Olivia rarely called him by his first name. No one called him John anymore. It was always Munch… "Olivia, what is it?" He was quick to get up from his desk and head to her. "What?"

This card was clean, it wasn't burned and it wasn't degraded. It was fresh. But that wasn't the only thing that was bothering Olivia. Something in her brain was nagging at her, begging her to remember. A memory leapt to mind, Elliot driving her home and telling her to flicker the lights. Why had he done that?

Olivia's eyes searched the precinct, looking for reminders on the case they had been working… There had been so much since then that it was hard to differentiate between Eric Plumber and Brady Harrison. It was hard for her to remember Lauren Cooper and Miranda Cole. Sometimes, she couldn't even differentiate between Eugene Hoff and Sebastian Valentine. Over all the years and all the criminals and victims… they just sort of blend.

_But you remember this. _

Munch was still staring at her expectantly. With wide eyes, she handed him the card. "Isn't this what came with the bomb?"

Olivia nodded, "But that one's not burned." She shook her head and bit her bottom lip, "Look at what it says, John. Why does that sound familiar?"

Munch looked to the piece of paper and frowned, it didn't sound familiar. 'No Hard Feelings' sounded odd, but not familiar. To be honest, Munch wasn't concerned with the words at the moment, he was more worried about how this pristine reminder of those flowers got to Olivia now. "Olivia, where did you find this?"

"In my drawer," she said absently, still trying to focus on a memory, on a perp.

"Olivia, we have to tell Cragen."

Olivia turned to look at Munch, "Why?"

Munch's eyebrows shot up, "Why? What do you mean why? Exploding flowers not enough? Want us to order another pizza bomb?"

Olivia shut John out, she didn't need another case infiltrating her memory. She didn't need Munch's concern clouding her mind. She needed to focus and think, she needed to figure out who sent that message. 'No hard feelings…'

And then the memory triggered. The lawyer in the park, her acquaintance and wished friend, the girlfriend they found bloodied in her bed. Memories of flowers and realtors clouded her vision. "White," Olivia barely breathed when the words came rushing to her, "Richard White." Munch looked to Olivia and frowned. That did sound familiar, but he couldn't remember. Olivia shook her head, "I can't believe it…"

Her first year as an SVU detective, her first real threat from a perp. How had she forgotten?

Because Gitano and Bushido took up space in her memory too. Because the memory of holding a bleeding Alex, and a bleeding Elliot, and a bleeding Casey, and a bleeding Sonya were constantly in her mind. And because Harris was the one assaulting her in her nightmares.

Olivia blinked and turned to John, her eyes still wide and her brow raised, "He's in jail."

Munch tried to think back to Richard White and a vague memory hit him. He remembered flowers and he remembered offering to drive Olivia home. He also remembered the park, "White."

Something snapped in Olivia and she quickly began typing on her computer, searching for the name. "I know," she said to Munch slowly. Her mind was still trying to process this while her body just reacted. She flew on auto-pilot, searching his name in the databases. Article after article, picture after picture, crime scene after crime scene…

Munch stood over her shoulder and read the pages as she scrolled through them, "He's out?"

Olivia's eyes were moving fast across the webpages, scanning the words instead of reading them. She didn't have time to read lengthy paragraphs about his kills or his threats to the unit. She was remembering them now, all too clearly. She was remembering the smell of blood from his ex-girlfriend and the knife on her neck.

And that memory triggered one of Gitano.

_Focus_, Olivia mentally berated herself. She had to focus. She had to find the words herself. She had to see if White was out of prison for herself.

"Early release for good behavior," Munch read aloud. He frowned, "He raped and killed two women, how'd he get out early?"

Olivia heard Munch say the words before she found them. She focused her eyes and read the headline, the caption and the first sentence. White was out for good behavior. Olivia stared at the mug-shot, a mixture of defiance, disbelief and fear running through her, "He never admitted to using a gun. Everything was speculation." She turned to John and frowned, "Why wasn't I notified?"

John raised an eyebrow. Had Olivia really been so afraid of him that she put herself on the prison contact list? Was she the recipient of automated voice messages whenever anything pertaining to Richard White occurred? For a brief moment, Munch wondered who else she listed to be notified of.

"Did you change your number and not notify them?"

Olivia looked up and felt her stomach sink. After the incident with Mike Jergens she did have her number changed. She couldn't remember why she even gave it to him, or maybe she hadn't. That case had been so long ago that she only remembered Casey telling her that she should have waited to be attacked before arresting him.

"I must have," Olivia said absent-mindedly, turning back to stare at White's face.

"Olivia, we have to tell Cragen," Munch said. He hoped she wouldn't be stubborn, wouldn't pull the 'We can't pick the vic' number like she used to. And while Munch was remembering the old Olivia, the defiant and fiery woman who refused help, he couldn't help but see the difference now. Had the job really worn the woman down so much that she lost her fire?

"You're right," Olivia said quietly, "let's go tell him."

_No_, Munch thought to himself, _the job just took away her naivety and innocence. _

…  
A/N: Review please!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: It's Riss here, I'm so sorry. I don't understand where time goes, I really don't. Holy shit… Okay, I'm sorry!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

…  
Cragen looked at the file on his desk. It was thinner than some he had seen, and it was older. The pictures inside were grotesque, but they were grainy and aged; clear work from the 1990's. "He's back?" Olivia nodded, sitting across from him. Cragen turned his eye to Munch, the older man was standing by the door with his arms folded and his head down. "Why do we think he sent you the flowers?" he asked turning back to Olivia.

"It's his M O, Captain. He'd send his vics flowers with the card, always saying 'No hard feelings,'" Olivia answered, her voice strong.

"But he never sent a bomb." Cragen did believe Olivia. He remembered the first flowers delivered, which led to White's mother. He also remembered Olivia's stubbornness and how she believed she was invincible.

"Maybe he's trying to throw us off," Olivia reasoned.

"Going from stalking to attempted murder is a big leap."

Olivia shook her head, "It wouldn't be the first time he killed a woman. Plus, Bomb Squad said the bomb was never meant to kill; seriously maim or injury, but never kill." Olivia rubbed the bridge of her nose, "There's something else." Cragen raised an eyebrow to Olivia. His detectives always hid something from him and he hated that. "Last night there were phone calls."

"What kind of phone calls, Olivia?" Cragen's voice was far from soft. He was never soft with his detectives. He understood the difference between going soft and compassion. He looked out for his detectives, but he made sure that he only showed strength. When he questioned them he didn't need tears, he needed answers. Even with Amanda, he made sure he lectured her before he offered help.

"Just the typical late night calls; breathe and hang up," Olivia answered shaking her head, "I thought they were teenagers."

Cragen sighed and leaned back in his chair, "And you think it was him?" Olivia nodded curtly. He stood and looked out his window; the other detectives were walking back into the station house, lunch in hand. "Munch," Cragen ordered, "Go visit White. See what he's been up to." He turned his attention to Olivia, "Go fill in Fin, Rollins, and Amaro. If White's back, we're gonna need all hands on deck."

"What about Elliot," Olivia asked as she stood, "White threatened him and his family too."

Cragen stuffed his hands in his pockets, "I'll take care of that."

SVU

White was currently living at a half-way house in the Bronx. His reports were clean and his Parole Officer said he was one of the best parolees he had. The P.O. claimed White was always on time for curfew, never objected to surprise searches and always turned up clean.

White's mandated psychologist noted White was a reformed man. She claimed he showed remorse for his actions and was seeking redemption. She also noted that White was reacting very well to therapy and she believed he would be cured of his 'affliction' soon.

"Redemption my ass," Munch muttered under his breath as he drove.

White was scum. He liked terrorizing women. He scared a woman into a sleazy business deal, raped an ex-girlfriend because he could and then killed her when she went after him legally. Not to mention the lawyer.

White liked power. He liked control.

SVU

"What's going on, Liv?" Fin asked, walking up behind her.

Olivia hadn't said anything when she walked into the bull pen. She muttered something about another case in reply to Fin and went to work displaying photographs on the giant screen: crime scene photos, photos of Louise's bruised body after her rape, photos of Karen Fitzgerald's bloody corpse, then a picture of Louise's bloody body.

"In 1999," Olivia began, standing in front of the screen, "We caught the rape and murder of an ADA, Karen Fitzgerald. She was resilient as an ADA and didn't care about her conviction rate. She only cared about getting justice.

"In our search for her killer we found a woman that Fitzgerald was representing in a rape charge, Louise Billings." Olivia pointed to the girl, "Her ex-boyfriend, Richard White, had been following Louise around after their separation. He charmed his way back into her house, only to rape her.

"We questioned White and he wasn't saddened by the death of the woman who was going to prosecute him. Legally, he didn't set off red flags. There were no stalking laws yet."

Rollins brow twitched, "I thought there was New York stalking laws."

Olivia shook her head, "They came out a few months after this case."

"That sucks," Amanda said blatantly.

"Yeah, it does," Olivia sighed, "Even so, there are still no laws against following someone. The victim has to give valid evidence as to feeling threatened."

Fin stared at the board, trying to piece all of it together. This was before his time, before Alex's time even. "Liv, what's all this got to do with us now?"

Olivia clicked a button twice and two more photos showed up: a destroyed squad room and the flower note displaying 'No Hard Fellings.' "The perp's M O was to send flowers with a card saying 'No Hard Feelings,'" Olivia paused, watching the detectives take it in. She saw them realize what was happening, but they didn't seem to comprehend it.

"The perp went after women who he felt humiliated him, women who showed power over him." Olivia bit her lip and sighed, "It didn't take long for him to target me."

The tension was instant in the room. Fin's stomach instantly dropped. He hated how Olivia always seemed to be a target of some sort. It really upset him that Olivia had to deal with that even before he showed up, ever since she began. Amaro, however, didn't know what to think. Olivia had just begun warming up to him and he wondered if this was what had made her who she was. Amanda couldn't stop wondering how many times the older detective had been victimized or assaulted.

"We set up a sting and sent him to prison," Olivia said quickly when the fellow detectives gave looks of concern, "Before he was sent away he made a few threats. These threats weren't very valid, until White was given early release."

"He killed and raped two women and he was released?" Amanda asked in awe.

Olivia shrugged, "He took a deal that didn't include a murder charge."

"What ADA gave that deal?" Amanda asked, her eyes slightly wide.

"SVU was in quite a disarray in those days. Our ADAs juggled constantly and no one really wanted our cases. I don't remember the guy's name, but I think he made the deal to get it over with," Olivia explained with a frown.

"That's messed up."

Olivia turned her eyes to Fin and smiled bitterly, "Yeah."

SVU

Munch stood in front of White's door. The building was crumbling and the green paint on White's door was peeling. Munch pounded on the flimsy thing, "NYPD!"

The door opened and an aged Whited showed his face, "Detective."

Munch stared at the man. Munch had never really seen White, considering it was Elliot and Olivia's case. He had, maybe, briefly seen White when he was being interrogated, but Munch didn't remember the face. Even now, he looked at White and he couldn't believe this man was dangerous. White had white hair, his skin was beginning to wrinkle and sag and his face looked absolutely normal.

But Munch knew.

He knew.

"How are you enjoying your freedom?" Munch's voice was dripping in the sarcasm only he could pull off.

White smiled, "I love it. So much as changed, it's like a new world."

Munch caught a glimpse of a computer in White's living room and frowned. Shouldn't computers be against this guy's parole? "Oh yeah?"

White continued to smile, "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Yeah," Munch said slowly, looking over his glasses, "Where were you on March 5?"

"March 5th…" White said slowly. Suddenly, his face lit up with realization, "I was at a convention March 5th."

"A convention?" Munch asked, his voice skeptic.

White nodded, "Yeah. It was all about re-immersing into civilian life after prison. They had some great tips."

"Did they now?"

White tilted his head, his smirk still in place, "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Munch took a deep breath and stood up a little taller, "Where were you last night?"

"Home, detective, you know I have a curfew."

"What were you doing?"

White feigned surprise, "Well… if you must know, browsing the internet."

"Alone?"

White flashed a smile, "Yes, but you can check with my P.O. to see if I was really home." White leaned against his door and sighed, "If there's nothing else, I have some work I have to do."

Munch looked over his glasses and glared. White's smug smile was enough to make Munch's blood boil, but he couldn't think of a legal reason to stay at White's place. Munch shook his head, "We'll be in touch." He walked away before White could read his facial expression and before Munch could read White's. If Munch saw that smile one more time…

SVU

"Did you get anything off of White?" Cragen asked the moment John walked through the door.

The older man shook his head gently and went to his desk, "No. Everyone's claiming he's got this squeaky clean image." Munch grabbed a pen and began to fiddle with it, needing to release tension in some form. "You know what I don't understand," he said boldly, "I saw a computer at his house. Wouldn't that be taken away if he's a stalker. The internet makes stalking so much easier."

"He's not a stalker, not legally," Cragen reminded his detectives. He turned to Fin and Amanda, "You two, go to Sing-Sing and see what he was like in prison, who he hung out with. See if he ever mentioned the 1-6."

"Yes, sir," Amanda replied, grabbing her coat.

…  
A/N: Please still review. There is so much more good stuff to come!


	7. Chapter 7

**I went into Dick Wolf's office and stole SVU, and then Lady Riss drove the getaway car. So we officially own SVU now. It was an exciting journey. **

** The above statement was false. We do not own this glorious franchise.**

Fin Tutuola allowed himself a quick glance to his right as he and Rollins were stopped at a red light. He shook his head and gritted his teeth as he laid eyes on the petite lady, small and fair-haired. He hated knowing what she went through on this job. He couldn't help but picturing every situation he had ever been in at work, instead inserting the blond into his shoes. It could have been her. And now it would be her. And in the future it will be her in almost those same conditions. And he suddenly hated, absolutely despised, everyone that he had ever put away and everyone that had ever hurt him on the job, because it could have been her. Her, so undeserving of the vile, cruel world she was in.

He knew Amanda was capable. She was tough. He knew she was a better partner than most of the ones he'd had in the past. It was just, when he looked at her, that little feeling came out. That nagging feeling of protection. He felt the need to take care of her. Treat her with respect and made sure others did too. She was special. She seemed more fragile than the others. Not more inexperienced, he could see in her eyes that she'd seen it all, just more delicate.

He'd never once seen her break down. Not once had he seen her with her guard not up and made of steel. Well, there was Murphy, but that was a different situation. That was contact from her past. He knew she was uncomfortable with that. She was one of the haunted ones, the ones where memories followed, whispering evil reminders of what she wanted to forget.

But on the job, she was always rock-solid. It never got to her. She was always level-headed and cool, never losing her temper or becoming over-attached. She was always composed.

And that's what disturbed him the most.

The fact that this young woman, this girl, had become so hard so quickly, all the youth gone from her eyes before she reached thirty. It was a shame, a pity really, and he wished that he knew. Knew so he could help her like he did with the little piece of information he had had with her gambling. Because, although it was to her misfortune, and put her at a disadvantage, she was forced to accept some help. She could relieve herself of some responsibility and place it on others. On the squad. On her brothers and sisters in blue.

He wondered how the sweet girl did it. How she bore it all. He didn't know the depth of her secrets, of her past, but he knew it was rough. He could feel it, sense the heaviness of her burden when he was around her. Working with her or just having take-out in the squad room, he'd known since the moment she'd walked in.

The little blonde belle from Georgia with boxes, curiosity, and a hell of a history to boot.

Maybe she talked to Cragen. After all, they'd passed her secret along to the aged man. He didn't know the extent of his past either, but there was something there. There was a reason he never went out for drinks with the rest of them after a long day or an especially tough case. There was a reason he hadn't had the girl, who'd screwed up majorly within her first months on the job, fired immediately after catching wind of her habit - destructive and dangerous. He had his reasons, and maybe they could relate.

Or maybe it was Olivia she confided in.

There was another he worried about.

Come to think of it, they were a lot alike, Amanda and her. They both had the juvenile quality gone long before their time. Both handled the material they faced everyday with polished, perfected poise and fake fineness. Olivia always had had that natural mothering quality about her. That reassuring gaze that looked like it could single-handedly cure cancer. That consoling smile that said you could tell her anything, and when you did, your problems wouldn't seem half as unbearable, because she'd be on your side. Those promising, loyal eyes that would stick with you forever, telling you she'd never give up until she did everything she could and then some.

She would give you everything she had, and then somehow find more to offer. Go to the absolute ends of the earth if it meant you'd be in less pain. She had almost paid the ultimate sacrifice by giving her life on numerous occasions.

But the most haunting of all to Fin was the one that remained a secret between them. Something only they knew the extent of, the exact details of that fateful, unspeakable day. The day she'd almost become the most extreme of victims. Enduring the most painful, humiliating suffering to help a person.

Sealview.

Where Fin had been a 'hero.' Her 'savior.' Her 'lifeline.' He couldn't even bear to think of those words in connotation of the events that had taken place. He'd almost let her down. She was woman who had always been there for him, helping him, his family out of trouble, the one who'd been a listening ear even when he did act like a rat bastard, gave him a comforting grin even when he didn't deserve her supportive smile. And he'd almost let her get violated in the worst way possible. He almost didn't make it in time.

And though she reassured him he could never have known, he'd done everything he was supposed to and did nothing wrong, he couldn't help but blame himself. He'd let it get that far. He was rooms away and he didn't hear her petrified, pleading screams. He was a floor up and had let the sobbing begs go on. He was supposed to be her guard. And he'd let her down. He would never forgive himself for letting her, the one he thought of like a sister, get in that position.

He could never forget that dead look in her eyes, those fearful, helpless tears, that panicked crease in her forehead, the dried sweat and blood, and that victimized, vulnerable voice she'd used when she said his name, weakly accusing him.

Never would he forget that night he found her in the basement in the malevolent, malicious clutches of the biggest, sickest son of a bitch in the world. Lowell Harris.

He had trouble living with it every day of his life. But in the midst of all the guilt and the struggle they faced, he had found a bright spot, no matter how miniscule and irrelevant it seemed. It had given him hope. He and Olivia had grown closer, the bond of the mutual horror had sealed their relationship, given them a depth they had not had prior. They relied on each other now. Hid the other's secrets and it had worked out that they were now buddies. Pals. True and honest friends. The pact of their companionship now reaching far beyond Sealview, they now were more like siblings than coworkers. Each had the other's back though they weren't officially partners. They could rely on each other outside the realms of the precinct, and they didn't need a badge to start conversations.

He hoped that one day he and Amanda could reach that point. She needed a friend, trustworthy and loyal, and if there were two qualities Odafin Tutuola possessed it were those. Once you were under his security, you were there for life. And anyone would be damned if they'd try to mess with that.

Fin barely managed to stifle a grunt as he realized he was there. He parked the car along the curb outside the large, grey, dismal building of caged criminals, offensive offenses and sick sins against humanity. The place known by the name of Sing-Sing prison.

"So Rollins, how you wanna play this?" he asked, unbuckling his seatbelt and looking over at her.

"I dunno, Fin. This is a big place, and I don't wanna blow a lotta time if there's nothing to dig up. Split up?" she suggested.

"Split up how?"

"You take employees and I take his peers? Sometimes there're different personas between guards and fellow prisoners. There's a sort of hierarchy going on in some of these places, and if you're high enough up, you won't get ratted out to the bosses. Inmates get to know 'em on a more…personal level, you know? It's jail, not everything's always as it seems."

"I gotcha. You sure you want the cons? They don't place nice, Rollins."

Amanda smiled at the concern, but couldn't miss the opportunity for a tease. "Think I can't take care of myself, Fin?"

"Nah, I was just making sure you knew what you're getting yourself into," he said, shrugging off the comment, passing it off as a joke.

"I think I'll be able to handle it. But thanks for sharing the fact that most prisoners aren't upstanding people; I'll make sure to write it down when I get home."

"Anytime. Now go knock some information outta those pricks, I want to get the hell away from this place as fast as possible."

"Why, Fin, this place give you the creeps?" Amanda jabbed.

"Nah, but the smell of the jail's cafeteria and the scum of the earth upsets my nostrils."

"Fair enough. I'll see what I can do."

SVU SVU SVU

"White? Yeah I knew 'em. What's it to ya?" An inmate who'd introduced himself as 'Shorty' answered Rollins.

"We're just checking up on him for a case we're working on."

"Nah, I mean what's it worth to ya. You a fine lookin' lady. I tell you 'bout 'em, what's in it for me?" He asked, rubbing his hands on his legs and smiling, his rotted teeth curved in a suggestive grin.

"Easy, Shorty. That ain't how this works. What happens is I ask you questions, you answer them, and then I leave you alone. There ain't a prize for talking to me, you just do it. Understood?" She explained impatiently.

"Yeah, whatever. Y'alls never do nothing for us. Most-uh you cop bitches ain't never in the mood for any fun. 'Cept for White's piece. He found himself his own personal hoe."

"And who would that be?"

"That guard whore. He had her in so deep, coulda pimped her out to the rest of us, but kept her all to himself. Selfish bastard. Resta us got needs too, you know?"

"So I take it the other inmates weren't too fond of him?"

"Eh, he could never help another brother out, but he was aright for a white boy. Never did nothing outta line to the rest of us, never acted too smooth, just kept to himself and stayed under the radar for the most part. He played fair 'cept for his girl."

"What was she like?"

"She was a fine one. Pretty young thing. Silky brown hair, brown eyes. Only had eyes for White though. Became obsessed with 'em. Possessive. She liked it rough. She was one of those kind if you know what I'm sayin'. Got off on the pain. Crazy bitch. She snuck around with 'em every chance she had."

"Did she ever tell him to stop?" She asked, wondering how a successful woman would put up with this, with a prisoner no-less.

"Yeah, couple times. White never cared though. Just kept on goin' and told her she liked it. He wasn't much in to takin' orders. 'Specially from his whore."

"Were there a lot of incidents where Richard didn't listen?"

"Ah, you know. He never listened to the safe word, always took it too far. She thought it was a game. White didn't treat it like no game though."

"What do you mean by that?" Amanda inquired.

"Well, I dunno. Just the way he looked at her. Don't get me wrong, no one in this joint gives two shits 'bout a slut, but we at least look at 'em with lust cuz we want 'em. White never looked at her with no lust though. Didn't eye her like a piece a meat - eyed her like his slave."

"Did he do anything else?"

"Well, I dunno if this means nothin', but he wasn't never cat callin' or whistlin', he was always moanin,' like groans, you know? Like it hurt 'em to look at her. He wouldn't lick his lips and lift his eyebrows, he'd be all rubbin' his palms and crackin' knuckles. Now I ain't no expert, and I'll slap a hoe any day if she deserves it, but that just ain't right. His eyes were just messed up when she saw her. Like he was her master and shit." Amanda barely contained a shiver at the description. This went far beyond fantasy and sexuality. This was about power. This was about control. This was supremacy.

"What was her name?"

"Layla. White called her somthin' else though when they were goin' at it once though. Olive or Ollie or something."

"Olivia?" Amanda asked, her voice softer at the suggestion, her heart dropping when his nod confirmed it.

"Yeah, Olivia. Hoe went wild. Little slip-up landed 'em in the hole for a month. She got crazy jealous. Would fly off the handle if he so much as glanced at another slut."

"Where's she now?"

"Oh, she long gone. White got too rough one night, and she left. Don't know why, it was no different from any other time from what I would tell. But like I said, bitch was mental."

"All right. Well thanks, Shorty." Amanda stood up, walking towards the entrance to meet up with Fin.

"Hold up, hold. That it?" He asked, disappointment evident in his tone.

"Think so, unless there's somethin' else you wanna tell me."

"You're hot."

"I mean about White."

"'Bout White? Nah, that's about it. Just that he was the luckiest son of a bitch in this hell hole. Anyone'd kill to have his fortune, if you know what I'm sayin'."

"Well all right then, I'll keep that in mind."

"You need anything else you come back to me, aight? I'll hook ya up with anything you wanna know, baby."

"Okay, I'll make sure to do that," she rolled her eyes.

"In fact, you come back anytime you want baby girl, you hear?" He said, the same evocative look still on his face.

"Sure, Shorty," she replied.

She was happy to be leaving.

SVU SVU SVU

"Squeaky clean," Fin announced as he buckled his seatbelt and turned on the car. A guy like White and he's squeaky clean. Everybody in there said he was a reformed man, felt guilty and repented about everything he'd done. That's a load of bull if you ask me. A guy like that don't just get into jail and have that kind of turn around," he shook his head in frustration and disbelief. "So how'd you make out?" Fin asked Rollins as they got back in the car.

"I did all right. Better than you, at least," she jabbed, giving a satisfied smirk.

"What's the dirt?" he asked curiously.

"White was having an affair with one of the guards."

"Layla Simmons?" He inquired.

"Yeah, that's the one. How'd you know?"

"The other guards mentioned her. Said she transferred right before White's release, always gave him good reports. Thought the timing seemed suspicious. Said she left for personal reasons."

"Some reasons…"

"No kidding. Got anything else on him?"

"Not really. Just that he was hooking up with Layla," Rollins said, chewing on her lip, conflicted on whether to mention the other piece or not.

"There's something else, isn't there?"

"Nah, that's pretty much it."

"Come on, I know when you're keeping something. Spit it out, Rollins," he elbowed her in a playful fashion, messing around, yet prodding for information at the same time.

She gave a small chuckle at the good-natured shoving. "Well, there was one other thing. I don't know if it means anything though. I could be worrying for nothing."

"Well then if it's nothing, you can tell me."

Amanda sighed. "All right. Well Shorty mentioned that one night when Layla and White were fooling around, he called her something else and she flipped."

"What'd he call her?"

"Olivia," she said softly after a beat, looking out the window.

There was silence in the car as Fin focused on the road and Amanda at the passing scenery outside her window.

"Think we should tell her?" She asked Fin quietly, picking at her cuticle.

"I dunno, Rollins, I dunno," he replied simply, going over the options in his head, wondering what would do the least amount of damage.

"She's in a hell of a lot of trouble, ain't she?" She asked in almost a whimper, the wind going out of her when the weight of danger Olivia was in finally hit her full-force.

"We all are, Rollins."

**Hey! It's TheTBone here! I know I haven't talked to you all in ages, so sorry about that. But I hope you enjoyed the new installment of 'A Forgotten Nightmare.' I had a lot of fun writing it. Reviews to me are like gold medals to athletes! (Sorry for the sports reference…I've been watching a LOT of Olympics lately…) So review, please! Thanks for the support so far! We love you all!**


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